


Walk with Me in the Shadows

by Therapeutic_Steter



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Abusive Parents, BAMF Stiles, Child Abuse, Creature Stiles, M/M, Peter's dad is a dick basically, Void Stiles, well just Peter's dad really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-03
Updated: 2018-06-03
Packaged: 2019-05-17 12:20:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14832156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Therapeutic_Steter/pseuds/Therapeutic_Steter
Summary: “Hello?” Peter asked hesitantly, reaching out towards the shadows.The shadows brushed against his hand and there was definitely a solid form there.“Hello?” Peter tried again, face scrunched in confusion. “What are you?”The black form brushed against his arm, tentative, like it was curious about him too. Peter turned his arm over, palm up, and the shadows brushed down his skin before he felt it split and hold his hand. He would’ve almost thought it was another's hand, but those were undeniably shadows he was seeing and the edges of the solid form in his grip wisped against his skin in smoky tendrils, almost tickling him.“Can you talk?” Peter asked, looking at where he thought the head might be.The shadows brushed against his side and they almost seemed to vibrate, but no sound came. Peter frowned, curious fingers exploring the shadowed hand within his grip, no longer as afraid.“That's okay. We don't have to talk,” Peter decided. He looked in the direction of the house, holding the shadows’ hand. “Want to walk with me?”





	Walk with Me in the Shadows

The first time Peter noticed the shadow, he was walking home because his parents had forgotten to pick him up at school. It was dark once he got out of town, the trees blocking the moon's light as he stepped into the Preserve. He was only seven at the time, but he had enough control to shift his eyes so he could walk without tripping.

The shadows to his right moved oddly and Peter couldn't help but pause, tilting his head curiously while sniffling to stave off his tears. It wouldn't do to let make a scene in front of his family anyways. His dad hated when Peter got too emotional and his mom was so preoccupied with Talia that she never paid much attention to Peter anyways.

The shadows stopped too, swirling and almost centered in a form that was completely void of all light. It was about Peter's height and he wondered if it was his shadow, but with the trees blocking most of the light, he didn't see how it could be.

“Hello?” Peter asked hesitantly, reaching out towards the shadows. His hand shook but he set his jaw, determined to not be afraid.

The shadows brushed against his hand and there was definitely a solid form there. Peter jerked back, fear making his heart pound, but he was surprised to see the shadows jerk back just as quickly.

“Hello?” Peter tried again, face scrunched in confusion. “What are you?”

The shadows crept closer and it took everything in Peter for him not to run. The black form brushed against his arm, tentative, like it was curious about him too. Peter turned his arm over, palm up, and the shadows brushed down his skin before he felt it split and hold his hand. He would’ve almost thought it was another's hand, but those were undeniably shadows he was seeing and the edges of the solid form in his grip wisped against his skin in smoky tendrils, almost tickling him.

“Can you talk?” Peter asked, looking at where he thought the head might be.

The shadows brushed against his side and they almost seemed to vibrate, but no sound came. Peter frowned, curious fingers exploring the shadowed hand within his grip, no longer as afraid.

“That's okay. We don't have to talk,” Peter decided. He looked in the direction of the house, holding the shadows’ hand. “Want to walk with me?” He asked.

The shadows kept close, a steady presence at his side. It didn't back away until Peter arrived into the clearing where the house’s lights shown.

“Thank you for walking with me,” Peter whispered as the shadows slid from his grip, slowly, as if reluctant. Peter smiled at the darkness, waving. “I'll see you later.”

…

Peter started seeing the shadows anywhere. They only appeared when it was absolutely dark, but Peter could always feel their solid touch. Peter saved up to buy blackout curtains for his room after realizing this and now he'd meet the shadows every night. The shadows were fun, playful, and Peter enjoyed being around his silent friend.

“What's your name?” Peter murmured quietly as he lay in his bed, the shadows lying in front of him. He felt comfortable with the shadows, their form entangled with Peter's legs and pressed against his face. Like a cuddly friend. Peter nuzzled the ‘face’ and the darkness seemed to vibrate, everywhere it was touching him filling him with an almost electric feeling energy.

The shadows never spoke, never made a sound, but Peter had gotten used to his friend’s silence. When he woke the next morning though, turning on his light, Peter stared with wide eyes at the shaky writing on the whiteboard above his desk.

‘My name is Stiles.’

Peter grinned, quickly erasing the board before his parents came in to make sure he was getting ready for school.

“Stiles,” Peter greeted the shadows that night as the form slid onto his bed. The shadows engulfed him, a welcome embrace, and Peter smiled, hugging it back.

…

Peter never was sure what kind of creature Stiles was or what he did when it was daytime, but he always came back at night to spend time with Peter and he always disappeared before the morning.

Peter was fifteen now, comfortable within the darkness with his shadowy friend. He didn't care if his family didn't have time for him because he didn't have time for them.

He and Stiles stayed up late, playing quietly. Afterwards, Peter laid in the bed, eyelids heavy but reluctant to go to sleep. Stiles laid beside him, soft tendrils of shadows brushing his face and bringing a smile to Peter's face. Stiles was so touchy, but Peter didn't mind.

Engulfed as he was in shadows, warm and comfy, Peter hardly wanted to move. It was a Friday night anyways, so he could sleep late; he just wanted a few more minutes with his friend.

Suddenly, the door to his room slammed open, the main light being flicked on by his dad.

“Peter--”

There was a horrific hissing—the closest Peter had ever heard the shadows come to a sound—then a smell like burning, and suddenly his arms were empty. Peter blinked in shock, worry consuming him as he stared at where Stiles had been.

“--Are you listening to me?” his dad shouted, as if he hadn't even heard that heart-stopping sound.

“No,” Peter growled, suddenly so very angry. “Why would you just burst into my room at two thirty in the morning?”

His dad's eyes flared red and he growled. Peter couldn't help but flash his throat, even as his lip curled in distaste.

“Careful, boy,” his dad warned. “Tomorrow’s training and I want you up early.”

“Then why would you wake me up to tell me that?” Peter spat.

Peter gasped as he hit the wall, too stunned to register the sting of his cheek before his healing took over.

“Watch your tone,” his dad ordered. “You better be downstairs by six. You don't want me having to come wake you.”

Then his dad slammed his door shut, leaving his lights on so Peter had to get up to turn it off. He scanned the darkness of his room, worry gnawing at him.

“Stiles?” He called out hesitantly, but there was no answering shadows.

Peter didn't go back to sleep that night. He was downstairs by five, staring stone-faced at his dad as the man walked into the kitchen at five forty-five. His dad scoffed, sipping his coffee and sitting across from him at the table.

“I've changed my mind,” he told Peter. “But since you're up already, you can do the yard chores today.”

“It's Talia's turn,” Peter said.

His dad looked at him with a steady gaze, eyes narrowed. “You're already up so you're going to do something nice for your sister,” he said.

“I'm only up because of you,” Peter growled back tersely. “If I don't have training, I can go back to sleep and Talia can clean the yard like its her turn to do so.”

His dad slammed his hand down on the table. “This isn't a discussion. Now get out there and clean the damn yard.” His eyes flashed, filling his words with an Alpha order, and Peter almost knocked his chair over getting up to leave. He went to slam the front door and his dad caught it, grabbing him by the back of his shirt with his other hand and dragging him back. “You are going to learn to respect me, boy, or you will regret it,” he hissed in his ear. Then he shoved Peter out the door, making him stumble over the front steps and land on his knees. They were healed in seconds.

Peter felt hatred within him as he grabbed the clippers for the bushes.

…

It was almost two weeks before Peter saw Stiles again after that. The shadows seeped in, sluggish in their movement, and Peter felt tears in his eyes.

“Stiles,” he cried, reaching out. The shadows curled around him, their head resting on Peter's shoulder. He wrapped his arms around his friend, burrowing his face in his neck even if he couldn't scent him.

“I was so worried,” he whispered, hands clutching at the shadowy form.

The shadows pressed tighter against him and Peter sniffled. They didn't talk much that night, just holding each other.

‘Sorry I was gone for so long. Dad didn't want me to come back, but I did anyways.’

Peter stared at those words the next day, an ache in his heart. Stiles’ handwriting had gotten better over the years and it wasn't uncommon for him to leave Peter notes that the wolf could only see once light had come. It didn't make for good conversation, but it was nice to be able to speak a little.

That night, Peter held Stiles’ tighter.

“I'm going to move out,” he promised him determinedly. “As soon as I can. And you'll always be welcome there, even during the day. I can live in the dark if you're with me.”

Stiles vibrated with his electric energy and Peter smiled.

That morning, there was another message left for him on his whiteboard.

‘You won’t have to live in the dark forever. I'm getting stronger.’

…

Peter took every job that would hire a kid. He only came home to sleep. He put a lock on his door and did everything possible to avoid his father.

“I am your Alpha!” his dad roared one night as Peter came in after working. It was nearly midnight but Peter had long since gotten over any fear of the dark. Peter stared at him with unimpressed eyes, quirking up a brow.

“You will listen to me!” his dad yelled. Peter grinded his teeth in anger as his dad threw a lamp at the wall beside him. It shattered but Peter didn't flinch, glaring at the man.

“I'm moving out,” Peter told him calmly, voice dripping with disdain.

“You're doing no such thing!” his dad shouted.

“You can't stop me,” Peter said simply, heading up the stairs to collect his bag that he’d already packed. It was a little earlier than he wanted to, but he couldn’t live like this anymore. He had money and could probably crash at a friend’s house for the night before figuring out tomorrow what he’d do.

“Get back here!” His dad chased him up the stairs. Peter had precious few items and he'd already packed them in expectation for this night. He slung the bag over his shoulder and ducked under his father's swing as he turned around.

“I'm gone! I'm leaving the Pack!” Peter yelled.

“Like hell you are!”

His dad shoved him from the top of the stairs and Peter yelped, tripping and crashing into the ground floor. He groaned in pain, trying to stand only to stumble and have to lean against the door frame. His leg was broken.

“You think I'm letting an Omega live in my territory?” his dad spat as he started down the stairs.

Peter's eyes caught movement and he looked to the side to see Talia peeking from the kitchen. She had tears in her eyes and was trembling in fear. She met Peter's gaze and sobbed as she turned away.

“Fuck you,” Peter growled at his father, hatred seething within him. He stumbled for the door, barely managing to get it open before his dad kicked at his leg, making him fall to the ground. Gravel stung his palms and knees, his healing focused on fixing his broken leg.

“I'd sooner kill you than let you walk away,” his dad said, stepping on his leg. Peter screamed, trying to kick him away with his good leg.

Suddenly the shadows swirled together in the yard, angry and larger than Peter had ever seen.

“Stiles,” Peter gasped. The lights from the house weren't bright, but they still seemed enough to keep the shadows from getting closer. Until they paused on their fury, seeming to condense within themselves before parting to reveal pale flesh.

Peter stared in awe as a lithe body stepped from the shadows, freckled with spots like constellations. The boy’s eyes were mute black, like a void, and he was staring at his father with a furious expression on his face.

His father roared a challenge and the boy raised his hand, shadows swirling under his command.

“You'll hurt him no more,” the boy spoke, and Peter felt a thrum of electric energy in the air.

His father was engulfed in the shadows, no amount of fighting able to help him. He screamed as the smell of smoke crossed Peter's nose before it was all gone. 

“Stiles?” Peter called out, in awe.

Stiles smiled, black eyes shining like the night sky. “My wolf.”

Stiles knelt beside him and brushed his hair back from his forehead before cupping his face. Peter shivered at his touch, as it had sparked like static electricity.

“Stiles,” Peter said again, an affirmation, and he drug himself to sit up before embracing the other boy.

Stiles nuzzled his shoulder and Peter couldn't help but do the same. Stiles smelled like the air before a storm, electric and wild.

Peter felt the shadows caress his skin, tender and prodding, and Peter hissed as they pressed against his leg. Stiles frowned, pulling away and inspecting the damage.

“Peter?”

Peter looked up to see Talia on the porch steps, looking uncharacteristically lost with tear stains-down her cheeks. His mother stood within the door frame, shocked.

Talia's eyes shown red with his father's Alpha spark. Peter hummed in acknowledgement but felt no reason to bare his throat. She was an Alpha now, but not his.

“Who is this man?” Talia asked. She sounded frightened but curious. There was no love lost for his father. Peter may have been his favorite target, but he wasn't the only one.

“I am Stiles,” the boy answered, glancing up at her as he directed his shadows towards Peter's leg. Stiles looked to him, brow furrowing slightly as he reached out to cup Peter's jaw.

“Does it hurt?” Stiles murmured soothingly, wisps of shadows brushing his skin. “Just give it a moment.”

Peter didn't know what to focus on, as a static energy came within him and left his wounds healed. Too much was going on at once.

“What are you?” Talia asked, watching the shadows with disbelief.

Stiles ignored her, gently pressing against Peter’s leg to make sure the wound was healed. Then he looked up at Peter and he thought he could see constellations of stars reflected in Stiles’ eyes. He reached up with a shaky hand for Stiles’ cheek, brushing the smooth pale skin in awe.

“This is what you meant by getting stronger,” Peter murmured in realization.

“I wanted to walk in the light with you too,” he revealed with a toothy grin. His teeth were just a hair too bright, a bit too sharp. His whole being spoke of a power that made Peter shiver.

“What are you?” Talia repeated, Alpha spark flaring up in her eyes. Stiles looked up, annoyance shifting his features, and Peter watched his black eyes swallow the flecks of star-light he saw and turn into flat-black orbs. Talia stumbled back at the look, nearly colliding with their mother.

“I am Void,” Stiles said, “and Peter is my mate. You’re interrupting.”

Peter’s heart stuttered at the declaration, eyes widening. Stiles glanced at him and smirked, a wicked twist of his lips, and he curled his fingers through his hair proprietorially. 

“Didn’t you know, my wolf?” he murmured lowly, sparks erupting from his fingers and tickling across Peter’s skin. “Didn’t you know you were mine?”

Peter shivered, shadows dancing around them. Stiles brushed the back of his fingers down Peter’s cheek. “I will never let another hurt you again,” Stiles vowed and the shadows encircled them.

“Peter?” Talia’s voice called, but it was like she was underwater, the sound growing fainter. “Peter!”

Soon, the shadows had completely surrounded them and Peter couldn’t hear her anymore. Stiles smiled, learning forward to nuzzle against Peter’s cheek. “From now on, it’ll just be us.”

Peter’s eyes glowed beta gold in the darkness, Stiles’ pale skin reflecting within their shadowy cocoon. Stiles hummed, looking at his eyes contemplatively with a wry grin. “What do you say, Peter? Want to walk with me?”

Peter chuckled, slow smile creeping across his lips. It was easy to intertwine his fingers with Stiles’, letting the other pull him to his feet. He walked with him into the dark and was not afraid.


End file.
